The Hilton Moon
by GIRL IN STORY
Summary: Mark is asked to speak to an astronaut stranded on the moon. No pairings. Standard disclaimers apply.
1. Chapter 1

If you like this, please consider checking out my original work. The link is on my profile page, since this site won't allow external linkes.

* * *

"Hey, asshole!"

Tommy stopped hyperventilating. On the other hand, he also stopped breathing.

"Great work," said Venkat.

Mark shrugged. They wanted someone with a good bedside manner, they should have asked Beck. Actually they had asked Beck. And Martinez. And Vogel. And Johanssen. And Lewis. He was, apparently, the last resort. He didn't know if that was because they were trying to spare him, or because they were trying to spare Tommy.

Venkat had briefed him on the way to Mission Control.

"He's stranded on the moon. It's only for one day."

"Earth day or moon day?"

"Moon day."

"So twenty-nine days."

"Annie's trying to make it sound positive."

"Tell Annie it just sounds deceptive."

"I'll let you do that," said Venkat. "The rescue is already underway. He has plenty of supplies and full communication with Mission Control. It's not that bad."

"It's not that bad? He's spending a month on the moon. If anything goes wrong, he dies."

"I just meant that what happened to you was worse."

"Not if he dies," said Mark. "So what exactly do you want me to say?"

"Just tell him something."

"What?"

"I don't know. You're the only one who knows. That's the point."

Tommy's face had turned blue by the time they got to Mission Control. Annie, Lewis, and Beck were telling him to calm down, but that wasn't working, so Mark decided a different approach was required.

"Hey, asshole!"

"What... did you... call me?" Tommy asked.

"Asshole," Mark repeated slowly, as if Tommy was stupid or Siri. "You're not listening to Lewis, and when people don't listen to Lewis, she gets mad, and when she gets mad, she plays disco. She's my ride home, since they still don't trust me behind the wheel of a car even though I've gone on the longest space road trip in the history of space or road trips. Hence: asshole."

"Why?"

"I just explained-"

"Why... don't they trust you... behind the wheel of a car?" asked Tommy.

"Oh," said Mark. "Flashbacks."

"Flash... backs?"

"Yeah, they're a bitch. You're probably going to get them too, especially if you blow up your base. Don't do that. Hey, I'm not so bad at this advice thing. So, yeah. I'm Mark Watney. You probably know that. They brought me here to tell you how to survive. The first thing order of business is-" Mark broke off. "Goddammit."

"What?" said Venkat. "You've forgotten?"

"Are you kidding? I get flashbacks from the produce aisle. Of course I haven't forgotten."

"Then what?"

"I just hoped I would never have to say this. The first thing order of business is Stayin' Alive."

Venkat looked at him like he was crazy, but that was how Venkat always looked at him. "Of course it is. That's the point."

"No, not staying alive. Stayin' Alive. You've got to find some disco."

"What... the fuck?" asked Tommy. Mark decided he liked him.

"Disco. It's cheerful. It's motivational. Like those posters with the kittens. Humans need that shit. Look, you have food, water, coms. You're practically staying at the Hilton Moon. I'm more likely to die from the look Annie is giving me right now. The moon isn't what's going to get you. You're what's going to get you. You're going to want to give up. I can't count the number times I almost took the NASA issued morphine just so I could stop wondering what was going to kill me."

Mindy flinched. She wasn't the only one, but she was the least subtle. Well, she worked in SatCom. She was used to watching people, not the other way around. His team was much more stoic, except for Martinez, who had quietly started to cry.

"I really, really hate to say it, but disco saved my life." Mark hooked a thumb at his team. "These assholes didn't have anything to do with it."


	2. Chapter 2

If you like this, please consider checking out my original work. The link is on my profile page, since this site won't allow external links.

* * *

"Mark?" Beck crouched down and put his hand on Mark's shoulder.

"Jesus Christ." Mark clutched his chest dramatically. "You gave me a heart attack."

"Pretty sure that's a panic attack."

Beck leaned against the wall and slid down it until he was sitting next to Mark. He didn't leave any space between them, even though Mark's keys were stabbing him in the hip.

"Talk to me," said Beck.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Mark-"

"What do you want to talk about? The weather's nice today. I can even breathe it."

"I want to talk about why you have your kicked puppy look. I usually only see it when you're trying to get food from Vogel."

"He's such an easy mark. And I would know. I'm also an easy Mark. But you would be too if you spent a year and a half without sex. Oh, wait. It's you."

"Very funny," said Beck. "Come on, man. Talk to me."

Mark nodded but didn't say anything. Beck absently started stroking Mark's hair. He and his team were long past caring about whether or not things like that were normal. They were getting odd looks from a couple of cadets, but he was long past caring about that either.

"I could've died," said Mark.

'You're just realizing that now?"

"No. I knew I could've died. I just didn't care."

Beck swallowed convulsively.

"When I was on Mars, I only..." Mark trailed off. He did that sometimes, when he forgot he wasn't talking to himself anymore. Beck nudged him.

"When I was on Mars, I only cried twice," said Mark. "I know that's got to be hard to believe after Toy Story gave me a panic attack last night, but yeah. Twice. The first was when I made contact with Venkat. Don't tell him that. The second was the MAV launch. You know I counted once? I almost died one hundred and seventy three times on that stupid planet, not counting all the times I told Lewis she has bad taste in music."

"What about the morphine?" asked Beck.

"What?"

"Are you counting the times you contemplated suicide?"

"Oh," said Mark. "No."

"Do you still have suicidal thoughts?"

"What? God no."

Beck let out a breathe he hadn't known he'd been holding, and Mark's keys stabbed him in him again.

"I think it was a defense mechanism," said Beck.

"Wanting to die was a defense mechanism?" asked Mark. "That doesn't sound like a real thing."

"Neither do Mars potatoes."

"We talked about the "P" word."

"Did you have panic attacks on Mars?"

Mark shrugged. "Not really. I pounded on the rover when the Hab blew."

"You attacked the only thing keeping you alive- Letting that one go." Beck had learned to pick his battles with Mark. "I think you didn't have panic attacks because you'd already accepted the idea that you were going to die. You kept working the problem, because you never do things the easy way, but you didn't actually have any hope until you made it to the MAV. If you had hope, you would have lost it every time something went wrong. You were just suicidal enough to not commit suicide. That may be a first."

"Not my first first," said Mark. "That was Becky Gardner in sixth grade."

"Sixth-" Beck stopped.

"Letting that one go too?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Don't strain yourself."

Beck tried to relax his features. "Well, none of us are very good at letting things go."

Mark chuckled softly, and Beck finally moved so he wasn't being impaled by a bike lock key. At least Mark didn't drive.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Isn't that what you've been doing?" asked Mark.

"When we were watching Toy Story, what set you off? Buzz Lightyear, or Mr. Potato Head?"

"Beck." Mark gave him the kicked puppy look. "We talked about the "P" word."


	3. Chapter 3

If you like this, please consider checking out my original work. The link is on my profile page, since this site won't allow external links.

* * *

Commander Lewis told Mark that if he didn't have a relapse until Tommy got home, she would take them both out for ice cream.

They'd gone for a walk around the facility after Venkat kicked them out of Mission Control. Mark let Lewis lead, because if he didn't, she got pissy. She would make a terrible dance partner.

"Ice cream is, like, the only dessert we got in space," he said. "I demand doughnuts."

"Fine. I'll take you out for doughnuts. But no Vicodin. And I'm not afraid to take a urine sample."

He was pretty sure she was joking. He'd only relapsed once since he got back to Earth, and that had been on the one year anniversary of Sol 6. Then again, the two year anniversary was this week. Maybe Lewis wasn't joking. He tried to smile reassuringly. It didn't work, if her expression was anything to go by.

He hadn't noticed where they were until Lewis opened the door, and he was hit with a blast of coffee flavored air conditioning.

Lewis pointed to the Old Fashioned Glazed in the pastry case and held up two fingers. The barista nodded and got them their doughnuts.

"Tommy isn't home yet," said Mark.

He usually didn't argue with food when someone else was paying, but with Lewis, he argued about everything on principal. It was his job as first mate, which he had appointed himself as soon as he was back onboard the Hermes. He'd argued (with Lewis) that he was the only space pirate, so she was lucky he was still letting her be captain.

She'd pointed out in her calm, reasonable captain voice that they'd committed mutiny, so they were all space pirates now. He'd asked what she meant by mutiny. She'd explained, and he'd been violently ill for the next half hour, although that might have been the opiate withdrawal.

Fun times.

Lewis shrugged. "Tommy is as good as home now that you've talked to him. I still don't condone calling a fellow astronaut an asshole, but I've given up trying to control you."

"I'm not that bad."

"Yes, Mark, you are. You are that bad."

"Asshole."

Lewis laughed, but then the laugh hitched, and she covered her mouth with her hand, and Mark got freaked out.

"Are you crying? Oh, my god, you're crying. But you're the captain. Captains don't cry."

"Captain America cried when Bucky died."

"Bucky didn't die. And you call yourself a nerd."

"Steve thought he was dead," Lewis said quietly.

"Oh, my god," said Mark. "You are a nerd."

"Mark, crying isn't weak," she said. "Not crying is weak."

"Come again?"

"It's proven that crying is cathartic. It clears your head. You make better choices. I had a whole class on it when they made me a commander."

"I've never seen you cry," said Mark.

"The rest of the crew has."

"What? Why? Do you trust them more than me?"

"Mark. They saw me cry when I thought you died."

"Oh."

She nudged his hand. "Have you cried?"

"I just had this conversation with Beck. I cried twice on Mars. I've spazzed out about two hundred times since I got back. Catharsis, check."

"You've had panic attacks since you got back. I haven't seen you cry."

He spoke around a mouthful of doughnut. "Well, there's always, like, a ninety percent chance someone is filming me."

She gave him a look drier than his doughnut.

"Fine," said Mark. "I'll cry. Just maybe not in Starbucks, okay? Now stop blaming yourself. If one more person on blames themself for anything that's happened to me, I'm going on a hunger strike. I can do it. I'm good at rationing." He stuffed some doughnut in his mouth. "Besides, I'm the drug addict. Pretty sure I'm the one who should feel guilty."

"Mark, you experienced a entirely new kind of trauma. No one can blame you for what you had to do to survive, because no one else has had to survive it." Lewis took a deep breath. "But we spent over a year in close quarters with you. We should have noticed a goddamn opiate addiction."

"You're right," said Mark. "It was a new kind of trauma. You didn't know what to expect. You had no way of knowing I would turn to sex, drugs and rock and roll. Well, drugs and disco. Lewis, it's not your fault. Well, the disco is. The drugs aren't."

She gave him a long look. "We'll have a team movie night. We'll watch Captain America. It's impossible not to cry when Bucky dies."

"Nerd," said Mark.

"Asshole," said Lewis.


End file.
